Forbidden
by colormestupidx
Summary: Sunny meets an unlikely friend.
1. Chapter 1

The snowdrifts on the ground crunched under Sunny's sneakers with each step she took toward the door of the main building. The cold New England air came swooping at her, causing her to shiver and pull her fleece jacket tighter around her body. She could have also been shivering from nervousness, for it was her first day at Boston Arts Academy and her first month in Boston at all.

Keeping her eyes focused on her feet, for at this moment she was a victim of shyness, as one is entitled to be on his or her first day of high school, she continued to trek across the front lawn. She soon reached the large, stone-and-glass building that would be her new school. Sunny heaved a sigh, and followed the wave of students through the large glass doors.

After finding a suitable alcove to stand in and attempt to find out where she was supposed to be, she withdrew her neatly folded class schedule from her jacket pocket.

_Geometry...Room 212. Now how am I supposed to get there? _she wondered.

Suddenly, the door behind her opened and she was nearly knocked over by the guy emerging from the men's room.

"Oh...sorry," Sunny said. She looked him up and down, taking in the ripped jeans, the Nike shoes, the Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt.

"It's cool," the boy said nonchalantly, adjusting his backpack. "You okay?"

"Yeah, thanks," she replied. "Hey, um...do you have any idea where room 212 is? I'm new and I have no idea where I'm going." Sunny giggled.

"That's the...Geometry room? Sorry, I don't really pay attention to these types of things." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, I'm supposed to have Geometry first, according to this." She gestured to the folded piece of paper in her hands.

The boy's face lit up. "Great! I'm going there right now. Come with me." He gently grabbed her arm and started to guide her down the hall through the sea of people on their way to class.

As they made their way towards room 212, the boy gave Sunny a little tour of the school, pointing out people or classrooms that were important as they passed by. She was stunned by how many of the people he seemed to know. Sunny had never been good with names, and she had no idea how anyone could be able to remember so many names and faces. But her guide seemed to be quite the popular kid. Nearly every other person greeted him as they passed.

"And there's the water fountain, very important, since it's one of the only two on this side of the building," he said, pointing toward an alcove across from what looked like a cafeteria.

After rounding a corner and passing a few rows of lockers, they came to a glass door marked 212. Sunny took a deep breath and prepared to be judged by the awaiting students as her companion pushed the metal bar, opening the door.

If one could pick a single word to describe room 212, it would be 'white'. The desks were all a crisp white, as were the chairs accompanying them, and three of the walls were white. The remaining wall was completely glass, giving one a view of the white world of snow outside. One of the only things that was not white was the floor, which consisted of a gray-blue carpet.

Sunny walked into the room, as her new friend held the door open for her. After mumbling a "thanks" to him, she faced the dilemma of where to sit amongst the twelve students who had already arrived. This problem was soon solved for her, as he sat down in the third row of desks and motioned for her to sit to his right. She smiled, and gladly did so.

Just as she had gotten her textbook and pencils onto her desk, the teacher strode into the classroom after the last few kids. He was a rather short man who looked to be in his mid forties. As he saw that all of his students were present, he smiled, and once the bell finished ringing, began class.

"Hello, students, I hope you enjoyed your winter break. We have a lot of work to do now that we're back."

A series of groans came from the students.

"Hey, hey, don't do that! We're still going to have a lot of fun in this class, all right? Now, I've heard that we have a new student with us today. Is..." he regarded his class list, "...Sunny here?"

"Um...hi," Sunny said, giving a small wave. Everyone turned to look at her.

"Ah, Sunny. I'm Mr. Carey, your new math teacher. It's great to have you here at B.A.A., or, as I like to call it, the school of the sheep. Ba-a-a-a!" He cleared his throat. "Please excuse my nuttiness. Sometimes I'm a little bit too much of a jokester."

Sunny smiled. "It's fine. I've seen worse cases."

Mr. Carey gave little chuckle, and adjusted his glasses. "Well, that makes me feel a bit better about myself. You've got all your materials for school?"

She nodded politely.

"Fantastic. Then we're all set for this semester. Okay, everyone, let's get started with Geometry, shall we?"

After class, Sunny caught up with the guy with the Avenged Sevenfold shirt.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi," he replied. "Where to next?"

"Um...it looks like Biology."

"Okay, that's on the way to my photography class, so I can walk you there," he said, smiling.

"Cool." She smiled back. "You do photography?"

"Mm-hmm. But don't tell anyone," he replied with a wink.

Sunny laughed a little. "I draw sometimes. That's why I came to this school."

"Are you good?" her friend asked as they began to head down the hall again.

"I don't know; I guess I'm alright," she replied modestly, brushing her ash-blonde hair out of her eyes.

"You should show me some drawings sometime. "

"Maybe. If you show me some of your photos."

"It's a deal," he said, holding out his hand. She shook it.

They reached the door to Sunny's next class, and the boy stopped in front of the glass door.

"Well," he announced, "here we are. Have fun in Biology."

"I'll try," she replied.

He started to continue down the hall, then turned on his heel as if he had forgotten something. "We were never formally introduced. Hi, nice to meet you. What's your name?"

She giggled, and then answered, "Sunny. Sunny Baudelaire."

His expression suddenly turned from a joking one to one of shock. "Wh-what did you say?"

Sunny gave him a quizzical look. "I said my name is Sunny Baudelaire. What's yours?"

He took a small step back from her.

"I'm Jake," he said slowly. "Jake Squalor."


	2. Chapter 2

The cafeteria at Boston Arts Academy was very large and modern-looking. The majority of it was, like Mr. Carey's classroom, white. The floor tiles were white. Each table was a crisp white that looked as if it had been carefully polished daily, which it had. The walls, too, were white, except for the one wall that was all glass. The high arched ceiling was also completely glass and no snowdrifts rested on its curve, for it was carefully scraped clean each day.

Sunny sat at a table in the corner, accompanied by Jake Squalor. While many people invited him over to their tables, he told them that he would talk to them later and sat alone with Sunny.

They talked the entire lunch period. She barely ate any of her chicken and mashed potatoes. She was too interested in getting to know Jake—what he liked to do, why he was in Boston, and if his mother was who Sunny thought she was.

"Yeah, life at home can really be a pain in the ass sometimes," Jake said, prodding his chicken with his fork. "I'm just glad _she_ moved out."

"She?" Sunny repeated questioningly.

Jake nodded. "Mom wants me to call her my sister, but that will _never_ happen. She isn't my sister, and as far as I'm concerned, she never will be."

"_She_ isn't..." Sunny started, studying his face. Then she gasped. "Oh god, is it...?"

"Yep," Jake replied, grimacing. "Carmelita is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. She's incredibly spoiled. She's almost 21 years old, and she stills acts like she's 5. It's ridiculous."

"So I guess she hasn't changed since I knew her," Sunny said, shrugging.

"Not one bit. That's one of the reasons I was so excited for winter break to end—she'd go back to college."

"What college does she go to? Harvard?" she asked jokingly.

"Yeah."

Sunny nearly spewed her lemonade all over the table. "Pardon my French, but how the hell did she get in?" she asked, half shocked and half amused.

"Mom's close with a guy on the admissions board. And you know she has a lot of money, so you get the picture," Jake explained.

"Wow. Does Carmelita get good grades?"

Jake snorted. "No. But she doesn't completely fail, though, and Mom keeps up the bribes, so she stays in."

"Do you think she will do the same for you?" Sunny wondered quietly.

"Probably not, but, not to be arrogant, I don't think I need it as much as she does. I actually work hard, believe it or not."

"I believe you."

They sat silently for a while, poking and nibbling at their lunches with the school's bent flatware.

The bell rang.

"Well then," Jake said, standing and grabbing his backpack. "I've got to get to Biology, and you've got to get to...?"

"English," Sunny replied, looking at her schedule.

"Cool. I'll show you there." Jake held out his hand. Sunny took it, and they left the cafeteria together.

After school, many students lingered out on the front lawn, impatiently waiting for their parents, siblings, or chauffeurs to pick them up. Some students walked a block or two in the snow to catch the bus, but most had someone coming for them or drove home themselves in their shiny, expensive cars.

Sunny was one of the ones who had someone come to pick her up. Although Jake was one of the ones who took the bus, he insisted on waiting for Sunny to be picked up before he left ("No one really cares when I get home anyway," he explained).

They sat together on a stone bench on the lawn, trying to catch snowflakes in their mouth, but neither succeeding.

"I've almost got one!" Sunny exclaimed, sticking her tongue out as far as it would go. The snowflake flew lazily away from her, carried by the wind. "Darn it," she said.

"It's okay; you'll get one soon. I hear they have a huge stash in that Good Humor truck that sometimes comes around," Jake said with a grin.

She shoved him gently. "Snowcones don't count! And that's in the summer!" she said, laughing.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jake said. "But I'll show you who's winning when I'm walking around with a thousand snowflakes."

Sunny grinned at him. He smiled back.

Suddenly, the honking of a car startled them, and Sunny looked up to see a black sports car pulling up to the front of the circle.

"Oh, that's my sister," she said to Jake. "I have to go."

"Okay," he replied, getting up. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sunny."

"Hey, um, you can come meet her, if you'd like," she offered.

"Uh..." Jake said, the slightest look of panic in his eyes. "No thank you, I really should catch that bus. Um, bye."

"Oh, alright then. See you soon," she replied as she left him to go to the black car.

She watched as he grabbed his bag and pulled up the hood of his jacket, trudging through the snow toward the street. She was snapped back to reality as he turned the corner, and she quickly pulled open the door of the car.

"Hey, Sunny, how was it?" her older sister asked with a big smile. Violet had always been very pretty, and had been told that her smile could light up a room—or in this case, a car. And it was true.

"Pretty good," Sunny replied, climbing into the passenger seat and pulling the door closed.

"Did you make any friends? I saw you with some guy as I was pulling into the circle."

"Oh, um, yeah." Sunny buckled her seatbelt as Violet made the turn onto the main road. "That's Jake."

"Hmm. He's cute," Violet remarked. "But don't tell Alan I said that."

"Don't worry; I won't." Sunny smiled and rolled her eyes.

Violet was engaged to a man named Alan, who worked as a lawyer for a very important firm. He had recently obtained a job in Boston that would earn him a large raise, which was why they had moved.

"So do you like the school so far?" Violet inquired.

Sunny nodded, and proceeded to tell her sister about her classes, what she thought about her teachers, and if the food served at lunch was decent. She had just started to tell her about her Biology teacher when she saw the other car come skidding toward them.

She covered her eyes as she heard the crash.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, kiddo, how's that arm?"

Sunny looked up from her laptop to see Alan, home from work, at the door of her room with a cup of hot chocolate and a sympathetic smile on his face.

"Okay, I guess," she said, looking at the temporary cast on her right forearm. "At least it's not my left hand. I can still draw and write. But it's hard, typing with one hand."

"I can type your essay for you, if you don't think you can manage," he offered, setting the mug on her wooden desk. "You just dictate, and I'll type."

"No, thanks, Alan," Sunny declined. "I think I can manage. I only have another paragraph to go after this one."

"You're sure?" Alan asked, raising his eyebrows in concern.

"Yes, it's fine."

She would have let Alan type her essay for her, if he had been anyone else. Alan was the type of person who liked to paraphrase—if there was something that he thought should be slightly different, he would correct it. And Sunny did not want to hand in someone else's work with her name on it. She was known for having a very guilty conscience, so if she ever did something that she felt to be wrong, she could go for days without sleep.

"Okay, then, I'll leave you to it," Alan said, starting to go into the hallway. As he reached the door, he turned and walked back over to her. "I'm so glad you're alright. When Violet called, I imagined the worst, but, fortunately, you aren't as badly off as I had thought."

Sunny nodded. "The doctor kept telling me how lucky I was. But I still am not excited to wear this cast for six weeks."

He gave her a sympathetic squeeze of the shoulder. "I'm sure it'll heal nicely, as long as you're careful."

"Thanks, Alan," she said. "Hey, do you know when Beatrice is coming back from practice?"

Alan referred to his watch and said, "Probably soon. Maybe 10 minutes at the most."

"Cool." Sunny turned her attention back to her essay as Alan exited her bedroom.

Sure enough, about 10 minutes later, Sunny heard the front door close loudly as Beatrice returned home for the day. Beatrice, Sunny's adopted sister, had recently joined the basketball team at her new school, which had started a week earlier than Sunny's. On days during which the team practiced, the parent of one of her teammates drove her home.

Sunny ignored the voices of Alan and her sisters that came from downstairs and focused on finishing her essay.

_Just a few more sentences and I can rest, _she thought.

As she finished typing the last sentence and began to proofread her paper, Beatrice appeared at her door.

"Hey, Sun," Beatrice chirped to her older sister, leaning against the doorframe.

"Hi," Sunny replied, not looking up from her computer.

Beatrice suddenly gasped, noticing the sling on Sunny's arm.

"Holy crap! What happened to your arm?"

"Some drunk driver crashed into Violet's car on the way home from school," Sunny answered, closing her laptop. "Apparently, I fractured my radius in two places and severely sprained my ulna."

"Jeez." Beatrice ran her hand through her brown curls.

"I know. It's a pain."

"Sucks. So guess what happened today?" Beatrice said excitedly.

"Can you tell me later? I'm almost done editing this essay."

"Fine. But you have to promise to listen."

Sunny rolled her eyes. "I promise, Bea."

"'Kay. Time to shower," Beatrice said, and walked across the hall to her bedroom.

As usual, Klaus and Autumn came over for dinner. Klaus, Sunny's only brother, worked downtown for a national historical research center. When Alan and Violet decided to move to Boston, Klaus and his girlfriend, Autumn moved as well. Luckily, Klaus' company had a location in Boston, so he did not need to quit his job.

Since he worked downtown, Klaus was able to pick up ethnic foods from the various restaurants there. He always brought food for his sisters and Alan as well as for himself and Autumn, although on some nights Sunny would pull out a recipe from her old cooking phase and whip something up.

On this particular night, he brought Chinese food.

At the dinner table, while crunching away at her wontons, Sunny was asked, like most are on their first day of school, how her day went.

"Um, it was alright, besides my arm and all."

_Should I tell them about Jake? _she wondered.

_What they don't know won't hurt them_, answered the voice inside her head.

"For how long did they say you'll be in a cast?" inquired Autumn.

"Six to eight weeks, but I'm hoping for six. I have to go back to the hospital on Wednesday to get the real cast on."

"That's not fun. I broke my arm when I was twelve, about Beatrice's age."

"Turning thirteen in March," Beatrice added quickly.

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry," Autumn said.

"No, no, it's my fault for interrupting. Go on."

"Well, I was pretty angry because I broke the arm I write with, and I remember trying to get my younger brother to write my stories down for me. The only problem was that he was eight years old, and he couldn't spell very well."

Everyone laughed appreciatively.

Autumn was a writer, who, at 25, had already published two novels, of which she was very proud. She and Klaus had met in college four years ago, and had immediately grown very fond of each other. They both shared a passion for knowledge and understood the power of words.

Sunny smiled while listening to Autumn's story, glad that the focus of the conversation had shifted. She remained quiet for the rest of the meal.

Sunny heard a soft tap at her door while she was sitting in bed, reading.

"It's me," Beatrice whispered.

"Come in," Sunny replied.

Slowly the doorknob turned and Beatrice appeared in her short, pink nightgown. Although she enjoyed sports immensely, Beatrice liked to dress very femininely. Her wardrobe mainly consisted of pretty little dresses and many ruffles.

"You promised we would talk," Beatrice said, taking a seat at the foot of Sunny's bed.

"Oh, yes," Sunny said, gently resting her book on her bedside table. "Okay, so, what is it?"

"Today in Algebra, something amazing happened." Beatrice enjoyed suspense and dramatic pauses. She liked when people begged her to continue.

For this reason, in addition to being on sports teams and in advanced math courses, she enjoyed being in school plays.

"What was so amazing?" Sunny asked.

"So this guy, Kaden, who is really _really _cute, asked me to go out with him!"

_Wow, her third boyfriend. I haven't even had one. _Out loud, she replied, "Great!"

"I _know_, right? We're going to the movies on Friday, if Violet lets me."

"That's really cool, Bea, but I'm really tired and my arm hurts. I should get to bed," Sunny said, rubbing her eyes with her left hand.

"Oh, okay. 'Night, Sun." Beatrice tiptoed back to her room.

Sunny sighed. Beatrice was only twelve, and she seemed to get by in life so easily.

_Why am I always so unlucky? _she asked the world, wincing at the pain in her arm.

Across the city, in a small bedroom in a large house, a boy with an Avenged Sevenfold shirt was wondering the same thing.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day at school, Sunny was a bit less shy. She walked quickly through the large glass doors along with the other students, and this time her eyes were not on her feet, but she was looking up ahead. Soon enough, she spotted Jake, who was talking to a small group of guys by their lockers.

She made her way across the hall through the crowd of students and over to where Jake stood.

"Hi," she said, standing next to him.

"Oh, hey, Sunny," he said with a smile. Then he looked down to her sling. "What happened to your arm? Are you okay?"

"Some drunk driver hit my sister's car yesterday," Sunny replied, shrugging.

"That sucks, dude," said one of the other guys in the group.

Sunny nodded. "Yeah, it hurt a lot."

"Poor kiddo," said another guy.

"I'm glad you're okay," Jake said to Sunny. Then, to the group, "Guys, this is Sunny. Sunny, this is Aaron, Michael, Frankie, Ryan, and Johnny."

Sunny smiled at them. "Nice to meet you."

"Are you new? I haven't seen you before," asked Michael.

Sunny nodded. "I just moved here."

"Cool," replied Johnny.

"Alright, I'll talk to you guys later. Sunny and I have to get to Geometry," Jake announced, taking a step out of the little circle. Sunny followed suit.

"So, is it a sprain? Fracture? What?" asked Jake as he and Sunny walked down the hall.

"Severely sprained radius and fractured ulna in two places," Sunny answered, wincing. "I get a real cast on Wednesday."

"Jeez." Jake put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I know. But enough about this. How was your day?"

A shadow crossed Jake's normally cheerful face. "Fine," he said, although his tone did not suggest that it was fine at all.

"Are you okay?" Sunny asked as they stopped in front of the door to the geometry room.

He looked at her for a minute, then turned to pull it open. "I'm fine," he repeated.

She solemnly followed him to the second row of desks and sat next to him.

Soon enough, Mr. Carey strode into the room with the usual grin and large glasses. After taking attendance, he proceeded to begin with class.

As Mr. Carey turned to draw a few triangles on the large whiteboard, Jake leaned over to Sunny's desk.

"I'll tell you later," he said. "At lunch."

She nodded and turned her attention back to Mr. Carey's lesson.

After French class, Sunny looked around the halls for Jake, but she couldn't find him. Eventually, she gave up looking and dropped off her books in her locker. She then walked alone to the cafeteria, hoping he would be there.

He wasn't.

After receiving and paying for her pasta, she found an empty table and sat down. She had passed by the boys Jake had been talking to in the morning, but they seemed too interested in trying to snort Pixi Stix up their noses to try to talk to her.

Sighing, she picked up a forkful of spaghetti and twirled it around. She looked out the window as she ate, watching the snow fall. She was jolted out of her dreamland when someone abruptly sat down next to her. Jake.

He said nothing, just began to eat his lunch.

She didn't prod him. She wanted him to tell her when he was ready. She would wait.

After a few minutes of silence between the two of them, he sighed and said,

"I saw a picture of my father yesterday."

Confused, Sunny asked, "Was it an old picture of Jerome?"

Jake shook his head and stared into his pasta. "Not him. My _real _father."

"Your _real_ father?" Sunny repeated, shocked.

He nodded, and continued to look down into his food. "Some rich, _in _guy."

She didn't reply, simply because she did not know what to say to him.

"Can you believe I spent so many years of my life living with Jerome's parents, thinking that they were my grandparents? And then I learn that they're not even related to me. My mom was cheating on him."

Tentatively, Sunny asked, "How exactly do you know this?"

"Some old photo album that Mom hid for all these years." He sighed and took a sip of his water.

"I'm sorry, Jake," she said, patting his hand. "I know how hard that must be for you."

"Thanks, Sunny. It's good to know that there are some decent people in the world." He gave a small smile.

She smiled back.

Once again they sat together on a bench outside after school, waiting in the cold. Sunny didn't mind the cold as much, though, when she was with Jake. He seemed to make everything feel warmer. She wasn't sure why.

"...And one day, she just showed up at my grandparents'—Jerome's parents'—house and said that she was back. She wanted me to live with her." Jake continued his story.

"And so you chose to?"

"Well, yeah. I was almost ten years old and I hadn't seen my mother for more than half of my life. I guessed I missed being able to call someone 'Mom'."

Sunny looked down and said quietly, "I know the feeling."

He gave a sympathetic look and put his arm around her. She could feel the warm feeling engulfing her again.

Suddenly they were interrupted by Sunny's mobile phone ringing. The caller identification screen read, 'Violet'.

"Hello?" Sunny said, pressing the green 'Talk' button.

"Hey, Sunny. I'm running a little late at this presentation, so I'm going to have Autumn come to get you. You may have to wait an extra twenty minutes. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine; it's fine," Sunny assured her sister. "I can wait."

"Okay, that's great. Don't freeze."

"I won't. Love you."

"Love you. Bye."

Sunny pressed the red 'End' button.

Jake's green eyes studied her quizzically.

"Violet's late at her invention presentation," Sunny explained. "My brother's girlfriend is coming to get me in twenty minutes."

"Well, I'll stay here until she comes."

"Are you sure? You really don't have to," Sunny said to her friend.

"I want to," he said, wearing that grin again.

She grinned back. "Thank you."

He gave her a hug, as if to say "It's no big deal." Then, looking at her, he said, "Woah."

"What?" Sunny asked, brushing her hair out of her face.

"Nothing," he said, looking down.

"Come on, what is it?"

"Nothing. It's just...you have really pretty eyes."

She smiled shyly. "Thanks."

"Well," he said, withdrawing his arm from around her shoulders, "Since you have an extra twenty minutes, what do you say we go get a coffee down the street?"

"Sure," she said, standing up with him.

And they left the school together, their fingers intertwined, their sneakers making fresh footprints in the January snow.


	5. Chapter 5

Sunny breathed in the warm smell of the coffee shop. Everything inside was made of dark wood and the aromas of coffee, cinnamon, and chocolate hung in the air. She gave a small sigh of comfort and unbuttoned her wool coat.

"So," Jake said, as they sat at a small table in the corner, "it's time to show me those drawings of yours." He leaned toward her, sipping his cappuccino.

"Not until I see your photography collection," Sunny challenged, returning his large grin.

He shrugged and withdrew a folder from his backpack. The front of it was covered in small doodles that he had made, the majority portraying cartoon-like characters with large heads or overweight dogs. Sliding it across the table, he said, "Go ahead."

After giggling at his little comics on the front, she carefully opened the folder to see several black and white photographs, most of them depicting the sky, trees, or other aspects of nature. She looked closely at each image, intently studying the scenery with a small smile.

"Where do you take these?" she asked.

Jake shrugged. "My backyard, the park. Pretty much anywhere I see something that catches my eye."

"They're really good," she said, looking at a picture of the sun gleaming off of a snow-covered tree limb. "You really have talent."

His eyes lit up. "Thanks." He took a drink from his mug again. "I work really hard on these."

She came to the last picture in the folder, which, unlike the others, was in color. It showed a girl sitting on a brightly colored patchwork quilt, looking at someone or something across the room. Her long, brown locks were covering her face, protecting her identity.

"Who's this?" Sunny asked curiously, gesturing to the image.

"No one," Jake said dismissively, taking the picture from her. "Just my ex-girlfriend."

"Oh." Sunny gently placed the pictures back in the folder and gave it back to him. "What...happened to her?"

"She moved away." He shrugged. "She never told me where. She just kinda...left."

Sunny watched his face as he talked. His eyes began to dart back and forth, a nervous habit on which she had quickly picked up. She decided to change the subject.

"This is my drawing book," she said, taking the worn blue sketchpad out of her bag. "You can take a look...if you want."

"Sure," he replied, his sea green eyes once again focused. "I bet they're all great." His smile was back.

She placed the book in front of him on the wooden table, which was covered in rings from coffee mugs. He picked the book up and flipped through the pages carefully, as if each thin piece of paper were a rare treasure. His smile grew larger.

"These are..." he started, handing the book back to her, "these are...brilliant. How the hell do you draw like this?"

She laughed. "I don't know. I'm glad you like them."

"They're really amazing," he said, eyeing her over the rim of his coffee cup.

"Thanks, Jake." Sunny blushed a little and looked up to the clock, which hung above a shelf filled with different selections of coffee beans.

"I think Autumn will be at the school to pick me up soon," she told her friend. "Maybe we should start walking back over there."

"Alright," Jake replied, rising and putting on his backpack. They left their unclean mugs on the designated tray and stepped back outside into the snow.

Sunny and Jake had only just reached the school as Autumn's silver car turned into the circle. Sunny waved at her and then turned to Jake.

"I'll see you soon," she told him. "Okay?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow. Hope your arm feels better." He smiled.

She began to walk toward the car, but he ran over and stopped her.

"Yes?" she turned to look at him.

Suddenly, to her surprise, he pulled her into a hug. She hugged him back for a little, and then they both realized that she had to go and pulled away quickly.

"This was fun," he said. "Let's do this again sometime, okay?"

She nodded, her smile almost as big as his.

"Bye, Sunny." He grinned and started to trudge his way down to the bus stop.

"Bye, Jake," she murmured, and then ran over to Autumn's car.

"Hello," Autumn greeted her as she climbed into the leather seat of the vehicle.

"Hi," Sunny replied, placing her bag at her feet, closing the door, and attempting to buckle her seatbelt with one hand.

"Here, let me help," Autumn said, clicking the buckle into place for Sunny.

"Thank you." Sunny smiled gratefully.

"It's no problem."

Sunny gazed out of the window as they drove down the street toward their neighborhood. She kept her eyes peeled for Jake, and then realized that he had walked the other way. Disappointed, she settled for looking at the trees and the buildings.

The buildings looked rather melancholy and gray in the winter afternoon. Dirt from people's shoes had caused the snow on the sidewalk to become slush. However, the parks were quite beautiful still, and Sunny looked at the pure, white snow that covered the paths.

She smiled, thinking that Jake would love to take a picture of it. Then her smile disappeared when she thought of the picture of the girl on the bed.

_It's alright. She moved away. She left him. _she told herself. _But why in the world would she leave someone like him?_

Her thoughts were interrupted by Autumn's voice.

"Who was that you were with before?"

"Oh, that's my friend," Sunny explained. "His name is Jake."

"You two were getting pretty close before you left, weren't you?" Autumn teased.

"It's not like that," Sunny said sheepishly.

Autumn laughed, but not meanly. "Alright, Sunny."

Later that evening, as Sunny sat on her bed doing geometry homework, Violet appeared at her door.

"Oh, hey," Sunny said with a smile.

"Hi," Violet said warmly. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Sunny said. "I'm almost done with my homework. It hasn't taken too long."

"Good." Violet came over and sat on Sunny's bed. Then she seemed to remember something and grimaced. "Guess whom I encountered at the supermarket today?"

"Who?" Sunny asked, putting down her pencil.

"Esme Squalor," Violet replied distastefully.

Sunny feigned an expression of shock. "She survived the Hotel Denouement fire?"

"Apparently," her sister answered. "See, she first came over to me while I was buying oranges to tell me that my coat was completely _out_, but then she realized who I was and nearly screamed."

Sunny could not help but laugh.

"We didn't talk for long, naturally, since I don't care for her much, but she did tell me something about having to go to Boston Arts Academy to pick someone up. Do you think she has a child at your school?"

Sunny said nothing, then shook her head. "I haven't met anyone with the surname 'Squalor'," she lied.

"Hmm," Violet said thoughtfully. "By now, I suppose Carmelita is too old to be in school, so I don't know who it could be. But I'm sure her child is as awful as she is. I hope you don't meet him or her."

Sunny looked down, nodding.

"Well, Sunny, I guess we will never be rid of her, unfortunately," Violet said, starting toward the door. "But at least Olaf is dead."

"Yes," Sunny agreed quietly.

She had heard much about Count Olaf and his treacherous schemes to steal the Baudelaire fortune from her siblings, but she couldn't specifically remember her experiences with him. She knew they had been horrible, though, and that he and Esme had caused her and her siblings so much woe. She still had vague memories of Olaf's dirty, unshaven face, and those shiny, shiny, eyes...

Then the thought came to her.

What if some part of Olaf was living on in the world? What if...he had a child?

_What if Olaf is Jake's father?_


	6. Chapter 6

Sunny came late to school the next day. She ran quickly across the snowy lawn and into the large glass building, sporting her large bag and her brand-new white arm cast. Since the only time the hospital could accommodate her was eight o' clock, she had had to miss a portion of school. Luckily, she had arrived just in time for third period.

She couldn't focus during history, for her mind had not strayed once the entire morning from the idea that Olaf could be related to Jake.

_There is absolutely no way I can tell my siblings about him now,_ she thought. _They would never let me see him again._

Sunny sighed and tried once again to pay attention to what Mrs. Rivera was scrawling on the board, but soon gave up and quickly copied everything down, making a mental note to read the chapter in the textbook when she was less anxious.

She sat quietly at lunch, still deep in thought. She wondered whether Jake knew all of things that Count Olaf had done-he had to, did he not? Perhaps he just couldn't recognize Olaf in the photograph.

Or maybe the father really was just "some rich, in guy."

"Hey, there you are," Jake chirped as he settled into the chair across from her.

"Hi, Jake," Sunny replied glumly.

"Is everything alright? Besides, you know, your arm. I'm assuming the cast is why you weren't in geometry today," he said.

"Jake, when you were talking about your father..." she trailed off, staring out the window at the snow.

Jake's face fell. "Do we have to talk about him again?" he griped. "I'm sorry for griping, I'm just still very upset about the matter."

"I know, Jake. And I'm really sorry but...can you just try to describe to me what he looked like? Please? Was he...tall?" she prompted.

Jake sneered. "Tall, thin, and ugly. Kind of...grimy-looking. But I assumed that he was rich, because he was wearing one of those pin-stripe suits that rich people ten years ago liked to buy."

Sunny gulped. "Did he have...one eyebrow?"

Jake was quiet for a minute in thought. "Actually...yes, I think so," he answered tentatively.

Sunny's face would have fallen, if it hadn't already fallen the night before.

"Why? Do you know the guy?" Jake asked, arching an eyebrow.

She nodded. "I think-although I would need that picture to be sure...I think your father is Count Olaf," she told him sadly.

His mouth hung open. Then he put his head in his hands. "Oh _no_," he said. Then he raised his head, and his expression was now one of anger. "I can't believe I'm related to that jerk. I never really knew what he looked like, but Mom sometimes talks about how 'great' he was, and how she would help him set fire to buildings. It's terrible. I knew they had been friends a long time ago, but I guess I never put the pieces together."

"It _is_ terrible," Sunny agreed, picking at her lunch.

"And...I need to make sure you know something," Jake said, turning to look straight at her.

"Yes, what is it?" She looked up at him.

"I just want you to know that I'm nothing like him. I promise," he said earnestly.

She sighed. "I know you're not. But...if my siblings found out that I'm friends with Olaf's son...I might never be able to see you again."

He nodded. "That's why I didn't want you to introduce me to them. I thought they might think I look like Esme. And now...maybe Olaf."

"You don't look anything like Olaf, thank goodness," Sunny assured him.

Jake gave a small smile. "That's good to hear." He shuddered, as if remembering the photograph of Olaf and Esme.

"Our families can never know that we're friends," Sunny said.

"You're right. It's awful. I wish we could hang out more outside of school." Jake sighed and took the first bite of his hotdog.

"Well, you _could_ meet my family. They most likely won't recognize you. Esme just can't see me, nor can Carmelita, since they've met me and my family."

"Okay, well that makes things a bit easier," he said, smiling.

"Why don't we start today?" she suggested.

"Start what?" he asked, looking up from his lunch tray.

"Why don't you meet my family today?" she repeated.

His smile grew bigger as he said, "Sure, why not? I've got time."

"Great! I'm sure they won't mind you coming over. Just...be careful what you say." She sipped her water.

"Of course. Anything for you," he said, his smile now back to the usual full-scale grin.

When Violet's car pulled into the school circle, Sunny and Jake both rose from the bench and walked across the lawn to meet it. Sunny squinted as the bright winter sun glistened off the snow.

"Hey, Violet?" Sunny said as she opened the car door.

"Yes?" her sister replied.

"Do you mind if my friend here comes home with us? His parents' car broke down so they can't pick him up," she lied.

"Oh, sure. As long as he doesn't mind riding in the backseat with all of these tools," Violet said.

"Great!" Sunny turned to Jake. "She says you can come along, as long as you don't have a fear of metal objects in large quantities."

He laughed and opened the door. "Okay, thanks."

"So...Jake, are you and Sunny together?" Beatrice asked with a giggle, looking up at them from her desk.

Both Sunny and Jake turned bright pink.

"_No_, Beatrice, we aren't," Sunny said. "Come on, Jake, let's go to my room." They both stepped out of Beatrice's room and started down the hall.

That Wednesday happened to be the first time Sunny had invited a boy over to the Baudelaire house, and Beatrice was getting extremely excited about it. When they had arrived at Beatrice's school to pick her up, she had immediately begun firing questions at Jake. Sunny thanked heavens that the ride home was less than ten minutes.

"Leave the door open!" Beatrice called. "We don't want any funny-business!"

Sunny rolled her eyes and closed her bedroom door behind them.

"Sorry about her," she told Jake. "She really likes...drama."

He shrugged. "It's fine. Sisters can be like that."

She nodded and sat on the blue striped bedspread. "I'm sure living with Carmelita is far worse than living with Beatrice." She gave him a look of sympathy.

"Yeah, well, I guess that's why I'm here and not at home with Mom. It seems that Carmelita and..." He shuddered. "...Olaf are all she can talk about sometimes. Mind if I sit here?" He gestured to the rolling chair by Sunny's wooden desk.

She shrugged, as if to say, "Go ahead."

He sighed as he used his foot to spin the black chair around. "Can I live here now?" he joked. "I like this chair."

She laughed and said, "I wish."

"So," he said, making another rotation in the chair, "you've told me so many things about your life, but I still feel like I don't know anything about you. Favorite color?"

"Blue, as you can probably tell from my room," Sunny replied, leaning back against her pillows. "Favorite candy?"

"Snickers. Favorite band?"

"Death Cab for Cutie. Favorite animal?"

"This is difficult." He sat back in the chair as it slowed its spinning. "I'll have to go with panda."

"Pandas _are_ pretty cool," Sunny agreed. "What is your...favorite-"

The doorbell interrupted her question.

"Dinner is served!" Sunny heard her brother call from the first floor.

"Sounds like Klaus is home," she said, turning to Jake.

"Okay," he said, spinning the chair around again. As it slowed, she noticed that his eyes were beginning to dart around the room.

"Are you ready?" She stood up and walked over to the desk.

He nodded and smiled. "I'll just be my wonderful, charming self. He'll love me."

They both laughed and began to walk downstairs.

"So, Jake," Klaus said, twirling some spaghetti onto his fork. "What are some of your hobbies?"

"I like to read a lot," Jake replied, sipping his water.

"Oh," Klaus said, sounding impressed. "What's your favorite book?"

"I really enjoy reading Greek Myths," Jake said. "I've liked Homer a lot ever since I read _The Iliad_ in seventh grade."

"That's great." Klaus smiled.

_So far, so good. They like him. Breathe,_ Sunny told herself.

"I also like photography, which is one of the reasons I decided to apply to Boston Arts last year," Jake continued.

"That's interesting," Autumn said, cutting her pizza carefully. "I've always admired photographers. The way they capture certain moments in time can be really beautiful."

Violet nodded in agreement. "I tried photography back in middle school, but I could never figure out how to develop the photos correctly. Luckily, there are more digital cameras now."

Jake smiled, looking pleased with himself.

_They like him,_ Sunny repeated to herself. _I just hope he doesn't screw it up. But...I trust him._

"What do you take pictures of?" Beatrice asked, tilting her head in curiosity.

"Usually nature."

The image of the girl on the bed flashed into Sunny's mind, and she felt as if someone had stabbed her in the stomach. As the green monster of jealousy started to take over, she gulped her milk, trying to suppress it.

_She moved away. Relax. He's here now. He...likes me, _she told herself.

_And I like him. The only problem is that our families hate each other._

_What?_ She gulped down some more milk as Beatrice began to talk about her math test score.

_This isn't a Shakespeare play,_ she thought. Her eyes drifted across the table and met Jake's. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered.

_But it's pretty damn close._


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I thought you guys might enjoy a bit of Christmas fluff, so here you go.**

As the days wore on, Jake's visits to Sunny's house became more frequent, and the Baudelaire family enjoyed his company more and more with each encounter. He had even shown them some of his photographs from his folder (excluding the one of his ex-girlfriend), and, to Sunny's relief, his identity was still concealed.

However, on one particular afternoon, this was about to change.

This day, a Wednesday to be exact, was Jake's fifth visit to the Baudelaire household. He and Sunny were in her room, lying on her bed on their stomachs, studying for their upcoming Biology test.

"So, if this kid's parents both have a dominant and a recessive allele...does he have blue eyes or not?" Sunny asked, looking at her class notes.

"Well, if we make a Punnett square," Jake explained, drawing in the margin of her paper, "you can see that he has a fifty percent chance of get one dominant and one recessive allele. Now look at these." He gestured to the other two genotypes with his pen.

Sunny furrowed her brow as she looked at his diagram. "But he can also have both dominants and both recessives."

"Right," Jake said, making a note in the diagram. "So he has a seventy-five percent chance of _not_ having blue eyes."

"Oh, I get it," Sunny said. "And if one of his parents had both recessive alleles...wouldn't he have a fifty-fifty chance of having blue eyes?"

"Exactly," Jake replied with a smile.

"I guess that's what happened to me," she said, smiling faintly. "My dad had brown eyes, and my mother had blue eyes."

"You got lucky," he said. "I like your blue eyes."

"Thanks." She smiled back at him, closing her notebook. "Well, I think we've got enough studying done today."

"Yeah, we have a week until the test anyway," he agreed.

Just then, Sunny's bedroom door opened slowly, revealing Beatrice standing at the threshold.

"Oh, hey," she said. "I just wanted to make sure I wasn't interrupting anything."

Sunny blushed and rolled her eyes. "I _told_ you. We're just friends."

Sunny didn't notice Jake's smile wane slightly.

"Well, I came here to see if you guys were finished with your homework. I need help with something, and Violet can't help me, because it involves cooking. And you _know_ what her cooking is like."

Sunny nodded, grimacing slightly at the thought of her older sister's cooking. "Okay, we'll help you."

"Yeah, I'd be glad to," Jake agreed.

"Okay, come on!" Beatrice said, turning to run downstairs.

Sunny looked over at Jake. He shrugged and rolled off the bed.

She walked over to the door, chuckling. "Come on," she told him.

"Alright," he said, catching up with her. "Let's do some cooking!"

"Okay, I need to make three dozen cookies for a basketball game tomorrow. I'll get the ingredients. Sunny, you can mix the batter with one arm, right? Jake, you can help me put them on the cookie sheets. I'll stick them in the oven. Alright?" Beatrice told Sunny and Jake as they came into the kitchen.

"Sounds like a plan," Jake replied.

Sunny walked over to the kitchen sink to wash her hand, as one ought to do before baking, and Jake followed suit (except he washed both of his hands).

"What kind of cookies are we making, Bea?" Sunny asked as she grabbed the wooden spoon from the cabinet.

"Those cinnamon-ginger ones. Your old recipe," Beatrice replied as she searched for the sugar.

"You cook?" Jake asked Sunny.

"Oh." Sunny blushed. "Yeah, I used to when I was little."

"And she was good at it, too!" Beatrice added, measuring a cup of sugar and dumping it into the mixing bowl.

"Well, I guess we have a five-star chef in the kitchen with us," he said, grinning. "Although she is slightly handicapped at the moment, I think she'll make some damn good cookies."

"We'll see," Sunny said with a laugh.

"Do you think you can beat the eggs with one arm?" Beatrice asked, placing a whisk on the counter next to Sunny.

"Probably," Sunny replied. "I'll give it a go."

Soon enough, the batter was mixed up in the bowl, and Jake and Beatrice were rolling pieces of dough into little balls. They then placed them on the cookie sheet, while Sunny sprinkled sugar on top of them.

"Are they done?" Jake asked, looking over the cookie sheets.

"They will be, once they're in the oven for five to ten minutes," Beatrice replied, smirking.

"You know what I meant," he said. He laughed and put on a pair of oven mitts.

Once the cookies were in the oven, Beatrice slapped the oven mitts onto the counter and said,

"I'm going to go IM with my friend for seven-ish minutes, so I'll be back to help take the cookies out. I hope you kids can manage being alone with a hot oven for a bit."

"I think we'll be okay," Jake assured her.

"We'll see." She winked and ran back upstairs.

"Okey-dokey then," Sunny said, walking over to the sink to clean the dirty supplies.

"Here," Jake said as he joined her. "I'll do it."

"It's fine, Jake," she said. She grabbed the dish soap. "I've got this."

"I insist." He was wearing his usual grin.

"Fine; we can both do the dishes," she said, flicking a bit of soapsuds at his chest.

"Do you _really_ want to play this game?" he threatened, inching toward her.

"Hell yeah." She stepped closer to him with a handful of suds.

"But you're handicapped," he said. "I wouldn't want to...hurt you."

And they nearly simultaneously threw handfuls of suds at each other. Sunny dove behind the counter island, brushing the bubbles off of her shirt. Jake quickly snuck up behind her with another burst of suds. She laughed and threw some back at him. His eyes glinted and he began to chase her around the kitchen.

She squealed as he caught her around the waist and pulled her into a hug. She grinned and turned around to brush the suds out of his hair.

"Alright, the cookies should be...why are you guys covered in soap?" Beatrice asked as she reentered the kitchen.

They responded by bursting into laughter.

"Okay, whatever. Help me take the cookies out, please." She walked over to the oven as she put on the oven mitts.

"I think all the soap is gone," Sunny said, brushing the rest off of Jake and herself with a giggle.

"Great," he said, helping Beatrice to take the last of the cookies out. "Wow, these smell really good."

"Yeah, Sunny's recipes never fail," Beatrice said, placing the cookies on the rack to cool.

"I would never except anything less than greatness," he replied, looking over at Sunny. She beamed.

"Well, thanks for all your help, guys. Time to get cracking on my English paper," Beatrice chirped, exiting the kitchen.

"No problem," Sunny called after her. She turned to her friend.

"Screw cooling," Jake said. "I have to taste one of these." He took one carefully off the rack and took a bite.

"How is it?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Hot," he said, with his mouthful. He swallowed slowly. "Excuse me. Hot, but still tasty."

She laughed. "I'm glad to hear it."

He smiled. "Beatrice's basketball team will be happy."

"Hopefully," she replied, nodding. "So...maybe we should actually wash the dishes now."

"Good idea," he said. "Just one thing." He took a step toward her.

"Okay," she said, smiling. "What is it?"

"There's a little bit of soap in your hair."

And she was enveloped by the smell of cinnamon as he pressed his lips against hers. 


	8. Chapter 8

The doorbell rang at seven o' clock, while Klaus was serving everyone a bit of Mexican food from a restaurant downtown.

"I wonder who that is…rarely anyone comes by after six," said Violet, rising to answer the door. She cautiously peered through the door's peephole and gasped when she saw who it was on the other side.

"Violet? What's wrong?" Sunny asked tentatively, putting down her burrito.

"Let me in!" an obnoxious voice called from the porch.

Jake gasped and quickly excused himself from the table. Sunny followed him down the hall into the library.

The library in the house was small and pleasant, and books were in stacks so high that one could barely see the walls at all. There were a few old, comfortable, brown leather chairs that sat in the corners. Sunny liked to come in on the weekends and curl up with a book in the sun that streamed through the small windows at the top of the walls.

However, on this night, no light shone through the windows, and the tall stacks of books cast long shadows over the room. Sunny didn't bother flicking on the lights. Jake grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the far corner of the room. Sunny winced as he let go of her arm.

"I'm sorry," Jake panted, gently touching the place where he'd gripped it.

She shook her head. "Who's at the door, Jake?" she demanded in a whisper.

"It doesn't matter. I just know that I'm going to be in huge trouble and probably never see you again. I don't know how she found out... I'm so grounded." Jake pressed his palm to his forehead in distress.

"That's _Esm__é_ at the door?" Sunny asked, her voice rising.

"Shh!" Jake gestured toward the front of the house. "Yes, and now I'm probably going to be taken out of school, so I—"

"Where is he?" a loud voice screamed.

Then came Violet's voice. "What? I've never met your son, all I know is you told me that he goes the Sunny's school...I—"

"Jacob!"

Sunny saw Jake's eyes widen in fear.

"Jake, I—" she started.

Her words melted away as he leaned forward and kissed her. She let him press her up against the bookshelf, wrapping her arms around his neck. Suddenly the door to the library banged open, and as the two broke apart they saw Esmé sneering at them from the threshold.

"Jacob Squalor!" she cried.

"Esmé," Jake squeaked in reply.

"We're leaving," she said sharply, turning on her five-inch heel. "Follow me."

Jake gulped and trailed forlornly after her. Sunny shuffled beside him.

In the front hall, Esmé turned to look icily at Sunny. "You will _never_ see my son again," she said. Each word felt like a stab in Sunny's stomach.

Jake met Sunny's eyes frantically as his mother pulled him out the front door. "I'll call you," he mouthed.

Sunny bit her lip and nodded slowly.

When the Squalors had left and Esmé's expensive car had zoomed off, Sunny turned to look at her family. Her older siblings looked betrayed, Alan and Autumn looked befuddled, and Beatrice looked as heartbroken as Sunny was.

"Who was that?" Allan asked, breaking the silence.

"Esmé Squalor," Klaus answered.

"I'll explain later," Violet told him, walking back toward the table.

The remainder of dinner carried on in silence, until Violet remarked quietly, "It's a shame, you know. Jake seemed like such a kind, intelligent boy..."

"They're always intelligent," Klaus scoffed.

"Just because he's related to Esmé doesn't mean he's not kind or intelligent," Sunny replied, her eyes on the napkin in her lap.

After a pause, Klaus asked, "Why did you lie to us?"

"I didn't lie," Sunny answered.

"But you didn't tell the whole truth," Violet said.

"What does it matter, anyway?" Sunny demanded, pushing back her chair with a screech. "He's nothing like Esmé!" _Or Olaf,_ she added in her mind.

"Sunny, it's just not safe to be around him. He could be in cahoots with people like Count _Olaf!_" Klaus cried.

"This isn't fair," Sunny said. "Count Olaf's been dead for years, anyway."

"He might take after Jerome, anyway," Beatrice piped up. "A-Assuming that Jerome is his father..."

_Shut up, Beatrice, _Sunny mentally commanded.

"Sunny," Klaus asked warily, "Who is Jake's father?" He could obviously see the guilty look on her face.

"It doesn't matter," Sunny sputtered. "Jake isn't like them..."

"Who is he?" Klaus repeated.

"He's dead," Sunny said quickly.

"Tell me who he is! Don't lie!" Klaus yelled.

Sunny winced. Klaus had _never_ raised his voice at her before. "He's Count Olaf," she muttered.

"Who?" Violet asked.

"He's Count Olaf, okay? Are you satisfied?" Sunny cried testily.

"Sunny, you're not to see Jake again from now on. You're...um, _grounded_," Violet said slowly.

"How could you be so close-minded?" Sunny demanded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "This _isn't _fair!"

"Sunny, please go to your room," Violet said quietly.

Sunny scanned the faces of everyone at the table in front of her. Most of them looked down to their plates silently. Beatrice was the only one who would meet her eyes. Sunny's eyes pleaded for help, but Beatrice just shrugged, as if to say, "What can I do?"

Sunny took the stairs two at a time to her room. She collapsed on her bed and buried her face in the large blue pillows. _This isn't fair,_ she repeated to herself over and over. _This is _not _fair._

After what seemed like an hour, there was a soft knock on her door. When Sunny didn't answer, Beatrice quietly let herself in.

"Hey," she said, settling herself at the foot of Sunny's bed.

Sunny wiped at her eyes and sat up. "Hi."

"Yikes," Bea said when she saw her sister's face. "You're all red and puffy."

"I know," Sunny replied, wiping at her face again. "It doesn't matter."

"Come here," Beatrice said, giving Sunny a hug. Sunny lay her head against Bea's shoulder, and for once Beatrice didn't mind her shirt getting stained from Sunny's tears. "I know. I know. It's not fair," she reassured her sister.

"I'm never going to see him again," Sunny moaned into Beatrice's shoulder.

"Hey," Beatrice said, sitting up straighter and looking Sunny in the swollen eyes. "Don't say that. You can still see him."

"How?" Sunny asked, sniffing loudly.

"Sneak out," Beatrice said simply, as if she did it daily.

"But...but then Violet and Klaus...they'll be even angrier..."

"You won't get caught. Trust me," Beatrice declared. "I'll cover for you whenever necessary."

Sunny smiled faintly. "Thanks, Bea. I'll see."

"I should go," Beatrice said, rising to leave. "See you in the morning."

"'Night," Sunny replied, sinking back onto her pillows.

_Sneak out? _she repeated in thought. She would never get away with it. She decided to only do it if she hit rock bottom. But was this rock bottom?

_Maybe, _the voice in her head answered.

_I'll see how I feel in the morning,_ she decided. _Maybe, _hopefully,_ this was all one awful dream._


	9. Chapter 9

Jake didn't come to school the next day. Mr. Carey received a note stating that Jake had been infected with an "incredibly _out_" stomach virus, but Sunny suspected that this was just Esmé's way of keeping him away from her. During lunch that same day, Sunny was about to sit down next to Ryan, a friend of Jake's who was in her French class, when she saw a girl standing by the milk who looked lost. Sunny walked over toward her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey," Sunny said, stepping out of the way so that a classmate could take some skim milk from the basket.

The girl turned around and smiled, looking grateful that she had someone to talk to. "Hi," she replied.

Sunny puzzled for a moment as she looked at the girl's face—something about her looked eerily familiar. Maybe it was her large, hazel eyes or her small, upturned nose, or maybe it was her long, dark curls or her tall, slim figure. She looked like someone Sunny hadn't seen in a long time, although she couldn't put her finger on who it was.

"Are you new here? I haven't seen you before," Sunny told the girl, resisting the urge to add, 'I think'.

The girl nodded. "I just moved here from China, where my dad was on a business trip for a year." She extended her hand, which Sunny gladly shook. "I'm Skye. "

"I'm Sunny."

A shadow crossed Skye's face for a moment, but she quickly brightened and said, "Nice name. Together we make 'sunny sky'." She chuckled and took a step away from the food area.

"So should we sit down somewhere?" Skye asked, turning to Sunny.

"Sure." Sunny and Skye settled themselves at an empty table by the tall glass wall.

"So are you in ninth grade? I didn't have any classes with you," Skye asked Sunny.

Sunny nodded in response, sipping her milk. "I'm in ninth grade, too. I've only been at this school for a few weeks or so, since I just moved here, too."

"Oh!" Skye exclaimed, putting down her fork. "That's cool. How do you like it here in Boston?"

"It's pretty nice so far," Sunny replied after having a bite of her salad. "This school is great."

Skye nodded and looked around the lunch room for a bit, seeming to study everyone carefully. A small crease formed in the middle of her brow. "I used to go to the middle school down the street, Wildery, but I left in the middle of eighth grade for Hong Kong. Some people in my grade were planning to come to this school for ninth grade, but I don't recognize anyone." She shrugged and turned back to Sunny. "Maybe they didn't get in."

"That's a shame," Sunny said.

Skye shrugged again. "Most of them weren't my close friends."

They were silent for a while, eating lunch and observing the world around them. Sunny watched the small exposed patches of grass amongst the melting snow shiver in the cold wind.

"So what kind of art do you do?" Skye asked suddenly.

"I draw," Sunny said. "What about you?"

"I paint. Mostly watercolors."

"That must be really beautiful," Sunny remarked. "What sorts of things do you paint?"

Skye brushed a piece of hair out of her face. "I like to do abstract paintings. Sometimes I do cityscapes, though. I did some in Hong Kong."

Sunny nodded and smiled. "Did you like Hong Kong?"

"It was a really great place to live. There were so many things to do. I had a hard time making friends, though, as usual," Skye replied, pushing her peas around her plate.

"How's that?" Sunny asked, furrowing her brow. Skye seemed very friendly and she couldn't imagine anyone disliking her.

"It might be because of my ADHD. But it hasn't been too bad recently." Skye sighed. "People usually think I'm crazy because I technically have a mental illness."

"I'm sorry," Sunny said, putting a hand on Skye's shoulder. "People can be really judgmental sometimes. Once some people made fun of me and my siblings for being...orphans."

Skye gasped. "Orphans?" she repeated. "That must be _awful_. I'm so sorry, Sunny."

"Thank you," Sunny answered, smiling faintly. "It happened when I was a baby, though. I hardly remember..." she trailed off.

Skye's face was solemn, her eyes cast down.

"So," Sunny said, noticing Skye's expression and trying to change the subject, "I really hope you like it here at Boston Arts. I think it's great so far, and I'm sure you'll make some friends. You've already got me."

The dark-haired girl smiled brightly. "Thanks, Sunny. That really means a lot to me."

"Hey, Sunny." A tall, lanky boy approached Sunny, who recognized him as Michael, one of Jake's friends. "What happened to your _boyfriend_? He was supposed to help me with Biology today, and I can't find him anywhere."

"I don't know; he's not here today," Sunny replied, turning around in her chair to face him.

"Oh," Michael's face fell. "Well, thanks anyway!"

"No problem," Sunny said quietly as Michael walked away. She turned back to Skye, who had a huge smile on her face.

"_Boyfriend_?" she repeated, nudging Sunny's arm.

Sunny blushed, instantly reminded of Beatrice and the way she acted around Sunny and Jake. "Yeah. I don't think I can see him anymore, though, because of this thing with our parents." She kept her eyes fixed on her lunch.

Skye noticed Sunny's grave expression and didn't ask any more questions. After a silence, she said, "I had a boyfriend here before I left. But my parents whisked me away to Hong Kong before I could even say goodbye. He probably hates me now." She sighed and drank some of her lemonade.

Sunny rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he doesn't hate you," she told her friend.

"Hopefully," Skye replied, rising from the table as the bell rang. "Thanks for sitting with me. I really liked talking to you." She smiled and waved before hurrying off to class.

Later that evening, before dinner, Sunny was in charge of setting the table. She reached into the tall cabinets in the kitchen to take out six china plates —not seven, like when Jake had eaten with them. After placing the plates on the table in the dining room, Sunny set back to look for the wooden chopsticks the family used whenever they had Japanese food. She couldn't figure out where her siblings had put them in this new house.

She found the chopsticks in a drawer, along with what looked like an old pamphlet for a boarding school. "Prufrock Prepatory School," the title said in curly black script. On the front cover was a picture of a girl and a boy grinning from ear to ear in what looked like a large library. After brushing away the dust, Sunny opened the pamphlet and saw a title that said, "We accept all types of students," and caption saying, "Prufrock Prep embraces diversity, and we even accept orphans as students!" Sunny looked at the adjascent picture: it showed a girl and boy, who looked to be siblings, possibly twins. Something about the look of the two struck her. She looked at the words on the back of the pamphlet: "Enrol for this school year: 1985-1986".

_1985_, she thought to herself, squinting again at the picture of the twins. _I would have been about one year old._

Then the reality hit her. Klaus had told her that she and her siblings had been sent to a boarding school not long after their parents perished —which was when she was one year old. And they had met two of three triplets there, triplets from another family Count Olaf hated. _Prufrock Prep_, she repeated to herself. _That's got to be the place. _She looked again at the faces of the twins —or triplets —on the pamphlet. _It can't be,_ she insisted.

_Duncan and Isadora Quagmire?_

"Sunny?" Alan stood in the doorway.

"Oh," Sunny said, scrambling to put the pamphlet back in the drawer and take out the chopsticks.

"Did you find the chopsticks?" he said, adjusting his glasses and taking a few steps toward the far counter.

She nodded. "I'll put them on the table right now." She walked quickly out into the dining room to begin the meal.

The only thing she could think about through dinner was the pamphlet. She knew she had recognized those almond-shaped, hazel eyes, and those dark brown curls. Her siblings had told her about the Quagmires, and she vaguely remembered them, but barely. Something about Skye's face had lit a spark in her memory, and suddenly she knew.

Skye was a Quagmire. And she knew who Sunny was, too.


End file.
